and it's taking its toll on her now

What This Family Does

My own fix-it fic - written before 6x17, but I didn’t publish it before. Slightly canon divergent, but not much… Killian comes back from Neverland, and Snowing are awake already. I felt Killian deserved a little more than just being forgiven.

title: What This Family Does

summary: Killian comes back from Neverland, and some things should not be swept under the rug.

rating: a very tame T - and F for lots and lots of forgiveness… because that’s what this family does, after all.

also on and ao3

When he’s finally back in their home, weariness settles into his bones as he sinks on the couch.

Staring into the fire that’s crackling against the crispy cold outside, his mind starts to drift, and he thinks back to the moment he was about to burn the dreamcatcher with his awful memories. Without even noticing, Killian runs his hand over his face and sighs.

David didn’t murder him, not even punch him in the face, on the contrary – he showed what looked like genuine relief, maybe even joy when he finally managed to return to Storybrooke, the bloody Crocodile’s offspring’s curse broken. But he knows there will come the moment – sooner than later, probably – when they’ll have to have a serious talk about the disastrous events that took place all those years ago, in that night he ran his vicious blade through a completely innocent man and destroyed yet another family.  In fact, destroying families and orphaning guiltless children seems to be his specialty.

But… he reminds himself that this is in the past, and he has finally made his peace with the fact that his past doesn’t define him. What does define him are his actions and his choices, the man he is now: the man who managed to defy the darkness of Excalibur, the man who stands up for his loved ones, the man who helps justice to be done, curses to be broken and families and lovers to find each other again. The man he is now – he knows and accepts it, that man deserves love, he deserves trust and he deserves a happy ending. And if he has to work a little harder for that, then he’ll do it. He’ll do whatever it takes to set things right with David, his best friend aside from Emma, and he’ll do what he must to prove himself to her, show her that he does have trust in her and their love. He can only hope that it is enough to make her believe in him again and trust in their relationship enough to make her want to be his wife.

Keep reading

Escape:  the medical school years

She sat on the couch, wrapped in the Fraser plaid blanket that Jenny had given her for Christmas.  

She had spent the night shaking in reaction, and finally drifted off to sleep sometime in the early morning hours.  Her restless mind hadn’t let her sleep long though, and she’d been awake with the sun. 

Hours later she was holding the ivory handled brush, absently running it over her chin.  The bristles were still soft, and smelled of shaving lotion.  Uncle Lamb. Dear, sweet Uncle Lamb.  When they were on a dig in India he was given an elephant tusk.  Secretly horrified that a magnificent, regal animal had died for this, he decided to honour it by having the ivory made into many useful things, one of which was a shaving brush.  She had found it among his belongings after he’d died.  Out of all his effects, this one brought her to tears. So many memories of him on site shaving in rough conditions, flooded her mind.  Later, it sat on his vanity during his years as a professor.  Giving it to Jamie was only natural.  


He would be so angry with her.  Angry, and disappointed.  

The tears welled up in her eyes.  How would she explain?  It was so clear now.  A driver.  Alec.  He taken steps to protect her before she would even admit there was danger.  He’d known.  Secrets.  But not lies.

Caught up in her thoughts, it took a minute for her to realize the door opened. 


He tossed his key in the general direction of the table by the door, eyes on her. Her first thought was how tired he looked.  His cinnamon and copper hair was disheveled, his handsome face covered in day old stubble.  She saw Alec discreetly place the suitcase just inside the door, then close it behind him.  

She was on her feet, and flying across the hardwood.  

Two paces away she noticed the blood from his neck that had soaked into the collar of his dress shirt, and stopped dead in her tracks.  

“Jamie!” she said, “You’re hurt!”

Without a word he closed the distance between them, and sliding his hands into her hair, kissed her.  His mouth hugged her bottom lip.  Nothing more, just a press of his soft lips on hers.  He breathed in deeply, inhaling her scent. Claire. He lifted his mouth only to kiss her again, feeling her hands cup his jaw, her thumb caress his chin.  He tasted the salt of her tears, and felt the shake of her limbs.  Mo graidh.

“Jamie,” she breathed, pulling her mouth from his, “let me see.”  She turned back his collar to see an ugly wound, the flesh cut deeply, skin hanging.  His hands slid down to cup her shoulders and rub them softly. 

“Hurts like the devil, Sassenach.”

“It needs stitches.”  She looked up at him.  “I’ll need to clean it properly.  How did it happen?”

Without taking his eyes from hers, he pulled the sgian-dubh from his coat pocket.  She gasped.  Claire shot a quick glance at the bookcase across the room where the dirk should have been, her eyes widening when she realized it was gone.  She’d never noticed.  “Where did you get it?”


He watched the emotions play across her glass face. Surprise.  Confusion. Realization.  Anger.  Shame.  

“Jamie, I-,” 

“Shhh, Sassenach.  It’s fine.”  He offered her an exhausted smile.  “Can ye get yer wee kit and fix me up?” 

Claire unwound the plaid from around her shoulders, and laid it on the back of the sofa.  As she walked away, Jamie fingered the cloth thoughtfully.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of her.  Looking at Claire, feasting his eyes on her, helped him manage the pain as the needle pierced his skin.  She’d only had a light topical ointment on hand to numb the area.  Watching her face while she worked took him back in time to when he first set eyes on her.  She was then as she was now, with her brow furrowed in concentration, lips pursed, luminescent English skin showing the smattering of freckles across her nose. He watched the sun play through the tendrils of hair that brushed her neck and cheekbones.  He’d fallen for her so easily.  He was still falling, if he was honest. 

Images were swirling in Jamie’s head.  His jaw tensed.  He was so very angry with himself.  To not be here.  To not stop him.

She clipped off the last suture.  “You’ll have a scar.  A triangular scar,” she informed him.  Only then did her hand start to shake.  “God, Jamie,” she whispered, eyes filling with tears, “just an inch to the left and you would have hit-“

“Shhh, Sassenach.  We’ll no’ borrow trouble, aye?”  He slipped his hands over her hips, and under her shirt to rest on the small of her back.

She swallowed, looked him in the eye, and nodded.  “I need to bandage it.” She stepped away to wash her hands quickly at the kitchen sink, and then dug through her bag for a sterile gauze.  Gently, she applied the stark white cloth to her husband’s throat.  She could barely see for the tears clinging to her lashes. She turned her head to blink them away.  The idea of Jamie, or anyone being hurt because of her lack of judgement was too much. 

She felt his hand on her face, turning her towards him.  Eyes closed, she felt his thumbs brush the drops away.  

“I’m so sorry,” she breathed, so softly he might not have heard.  

His forehead came to rest on hers.  Leaning into him their breath mingled. Hers hitched as she tried not to sob outright.  His came in long calming breaths as if trying to stay in control.  

“Claire.”  She glanced up at him under lowered lids.  “Look at me, mo neighean donn.”  Swallowing hard, she met his gaze.  

“When we wed, we became one.  You have my name,” he gestured to the plaid draped over the sofa, “My clan.  My family.”  He used a finger to lift her chin higher, “and if necessary, the protection of my body, as well.”  

The dam broke.  

Sobs racked Claire such as he hadn’t seen since that day he found her feverish and exhausted on the stairs between their apartments.  He gathered her in and held her head against his shoulder, rocking her gently while the tension of the week came pouring out of her.  Her long fingers clutched at his shoulders, and naked chest trying to gain purchase, to hold on to something, anything.  

Jamie’s body was responding to its own tension.  Jet lag, adrenaline crash from his fight with Horrocks, and the pain from his wound were all taking its toll on him now.  He needed to sleep.  

“Claire.”  He pressed a kiss to her temple.  “Sassenach.”

She lifted her head, a soft hiccup escaping her as she tried to stop crying.

“Lie wi’ me?”

She nodded.  Grabbing the blanket from the sofa, she took her husband’s hand and walked with him to their bed.

“It was Murtagh.”

“Hmmm?” Claire mumbled, legs tangled with Jamie’s, her head next to his on the pillow.  

They had crawled into bed under twisted, and tortured sheets from Claire’s restless night.  They tussled a bit as Jamie tried to get Claire to shed some clothing layers, teasing her once again about how she wore too much to bed. Then finally, they curled together with the heavy duvet thrown over both of them.  The shared warmth soon lulled them to sleep.  

“Alec, I expected, of course,” Jamie said.  “I wasna so surprised to see Willie.  I thought he just had some papers for me to sign.  Business, ye ken.”  
Claire slowly came awake listening to the low rumble of Jamie’s voice. 

Understanding dawned.

“But when I saw Murtagh, weel, my knees buckled a bit.  I knew.  He’s the closest thing I have to a father.  And I remember thinkin’, why is a man who hates crowds, hates noise, at an airport?”  Jamie paused, and she felt his arm tighten around her waist.  “I never want to feel that kind of fear again.  Never.”

Claire moved then.  She rolled toward her husband at the same time his hand slid down to cup her bottom and lift her towards him.  She sprawled herself on him, finding his mouth and kissing him deeply.  She gripped his hair, turned his head to the angle she wanted and fused her mouth to his.  

She was wild, and a little rough.  He liked it.

Even when the stitches pulled a little, and made him hiss in his breath, Jamie let her take control.  He let her grab his hands and place them on her breasts, let her show him what she wanted.  

He understood.  

She was exorcising her own fears.  Fighting her own demons.  They would come together on her terms.  She would take her pleasure the way she wanted.  She would erase the memories of what that bastard tried to offer, and may have taken had Alec not been there.  If this was what Claire needed from him, then he would give it.  He left himself at her mercy.  It wasn’t easy.  He and Claire shared the same passions in bed.  They danced this dance a hundred times, giving and taking in equal measure.  Yet in this moment he understood instinctively that he needed to surrender himself to her control.  

When he tried to kiss her, she dodged him.  If he moved his hand somewhere else, she slapped at it until he put it back.  She nipped at his lips, scraped her teeth across his hip bone, and bit his thigh.  

It was the sweetest torture.  There was pleasure in the pain.    

She made him ask permission for everything.  To be kissed, to be touched.    

Permission to enter her body.

As their cries echoed around the bedroom, and she collapsed onto his chest, Jamie held his wife and tenderly stroked her back.  He felt the dampness on his skin from her tears.  His heart broke just a little.  “Shh, mo graidh, shh,” he whispered.  “He’s gone, Claire.  Gone for good.”

She stretched her neck to kiss the hollow of his throat, and saw the small red stain on the gauze.

“Did I hurt you?” she asked, caressing his jaw with the backs of her fingers.  

“Aye.  A bit.”  He brushed the damp curls away from her temple.  

“You should have told me to stop.”

“Nah,” Jamie said, giving her that lopsided smile she loved so much, “I was completely under yer power and happy to be there.”

Series: Fairy Tail.
Rating: High T - M.
Genre(s): mystery, romance, drama, action, fantasy.
Pairings: NaLu, Gruvia, Gajevy, Jerza.
Triggers: blood, violence, character death.
CH3 POV: Gajeel Redfox.
All Chapters: here.

A/N: I just wanted to say before we begin that all chapters are pre-written. Meaning, all the chapters and their respective ship/character pov is set in stone. I am in the process of rewriting them all, but the perspectives will not change. I wanted all nine characters to have equal and important parts in this story, just as each House has an importance in Game Of Thrones. I’d really appreciate if people didn’t beg me to write more of a certain ship in reviews, especially when those reviews don’t address the effort I have made in regards to actually writing this fic. I will be focusing on ship-specific stories in the future, such as when I rewrite my Gruvia fic Begin Again, so until then you’ll have to deal with the spotlight being shared a little, haha. I’m not going to sacrifice my plot for your shipping preferences by adding unnecessary filler. 

This story is my way of branching out and developing as a writer. Yes, the big four are part of that, but this story is individually character driven first and foremost. The ships just happen to be there working together (maybe making out a lil bit, lol). By all means enjoy the story more when your fave pairing shows up, but please don’t reduce my efforts to how long your ship is on the scene. I want you guys to enjoy the story as it unfolds through each character’s eyes. Your ships will get their fluffy, romantic moments. So please be patient until then. <3

Summary: They say that dead men tell no tales, but the body from the canal just won’t stop talking. Magnolia is on lock-down. Natsu’s wife is missing. And the things they were keeping out just got in. In this little town tainted with blood, knowledge is death. And Lucy Heartfilia knew too much.

;When the day has come but I’ve lost my way around, and the seasons stop and hide beneath the ground. When the sky turns gray and everything is screaming, I will reach inside just to find my heart is beating. You tell me to hold on. Oh, you tell me to hold on. But innocence is gone and what was right is wrong.


‘Hey, Levy, you’re under arrest!’

Levy slapped him. ‘Be quiet! Someone will hear us!’

‘You’re the one yelling,’ Gajeel said, tugging the belt of his pants. ‘What luck, huh? They fit perfectly.’

Levy grimaced. ‘Shouldn’t you find something to cover him with?’

Both turned to face the body. Levy avoided glancing below the man’s waist. The soldier’s uniform had been there for the taking, but, having liberated a jacket from the storage room, Gajeel didn’t see the point in stealing anything else. Besides, that would mean having to cut him down, which was more effort than the outfit was worth. He wasn’t even sure how he’d go about it. Now, the body dangled lifelessly from the ceiling, stripped half-way of his dignity. 

‘Are you sure there’s no blood on those?’ Levy asked, fists on hips. ‘What if he was infected?’

‘Then I’ll eat you,’ Gajeel teased.

Levy inflated her cheeks.

‘Don’t gimme that look. You didn’t complain yesterday when my mouth was–’

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

No one saw Ginny walk in. And definitely no one saw her wind up for a fastball that was sent straight into the tv monitor that hung in the middle of the room.

All eyes immediately turned towards her, but all that was seen was the door as it closed, her figure having fled from the room.

“Girl’s got some aim,” Mike hears, and he gives a sigh, running his hand through his beard, before he takes off after her.

Glancing in the hallway, he doesn’t immediately see her, but he has a feeling he knows where she’s taken off to.

At a slow gait, he moves steadily towards his destination, his knees protesting with each step, the game having taken its toll on him, and his joints begging to be soaked in a tub of ice.  Instead he was trying to track down Ginny.

Finally seeing the doorway he needed, he opened the door, to see her sitting on a box, the heels of her palm digging into her watery eyes, her hair having been yanked from its ponytail now stood in wild disarray.

“How did you find me?” Ginny asks, glancing around, making sure no one else was around, before he moved completely into the closet, shutting the door, and leaving them in the dark.

His eyes wait to adjust to the lack of light, only the crack from the bottom of the door offering any chance of seeing anything.

“You know, the thing about secret hiding places is you don’t tell anyone about them,” he says, stumbling over to her.  A loud groan escaping him as he moves to sit down next to her, his knees screaming at him to stop.

“I didn’t think you were listening,” she admits, making a sniffling nose, as if trying to hide that she had been crying.  The hiding in a closet, and outburst of a broken TV not enough evidence to the contrary.

“Well, I was.  So next time you want to hide, let’s pick somewhere a little less…here,” he finishes, extending his legs in front of him.

Before he knows it, she’s leaning her head against his shoulder, and he’s audibly sighing at what he’d gotten himself into.

“They all think I’m a joke,” she mutters into the darkness, as if hoping that her admission will be swallowed, unseen and unheard.  “And you’re somehow the hero.”

“I don’t know, I think one of them suggested I was a creep,” he jokes, hoping she’ll find the old man insinuation amusing, given how often she called him that herself.

He can’t see her face in the dark, but he can hear her horsey laugh at his attempt to cheer her up.

Her arm comes to wrap around his, pulling herself closer to him.

“I knew this would happen,” she groans, the inevitability of their relationship being outed, one that they had anticipated.  But not right after a game, and certainly not in the way in which it was.  Pictures of them from the night before smeared across the screen, the judgment thrown almost immediately.  Landing in silence only at her ball slamming into the screen.

This had been the reason they’d teetered on the edge of whether or not this was a good idea.  Only to discover that as inevitable as it had been that they would end up in this situation, their relationship just as sure.  For as hard as they tried to fight it, hide in the relationships of others, they always seemed to find each other.

“So I guess that’s it,” he sighs, knowing that for all that they tried, he wasn’t the least bit willing to jeopardize her career even more.

“You breakin’ up with me?” She asks, a bit of a southern drawl to her words.

“Are you?” He throws to her.

“I probably should, you are a bit of a creep, old man” she teases back, and he doesn’t fight the smile.  Her pitching the joke right back to him.

“But you are not even close to being a joke,” he assures her, reaching for her hand in the glow of the outside light, their hands entwining, as they continue to sit together, the darkness, letting their last few moments of scrutiny linger before they went out to face the world.

Leave the first sentence of a fic in my ask box and I will write the next five sentences.

my moms an underpayed teacher and my dad has to pay for my grandfather's medical stuff. i need help.

you may have seen a post about my situation before, you’ve definitely seen it several times if u follow me, but i need help!!! and i wanna explain why in one post because the situation has only gotten worse.

my mom has a crappy pay as it is and atm, she is out of school with no pay. she wont go back to teaching until the sixth of september and wont get paid until fifteenth. we’re low on cash at the end of the summer usually, but we have too many thing that need to be bought, so we’re extra low. my mom has anxiety and its been really taking a toll on her (as well as me)

my dad has been paying a lot of money for my grandfather lately with having to go through surgery and recovery twice, the first time cause of cancer and the second time because he was pulled out of rehab to early. yesterday (7/18) my grandfather was found by my uncle bleeding out at the end of his steps. he’s now in the hospital undergoing unrelated cardiac treatment. my dad has been splitting the medical bills with his sister and brother but its still a lot
of cash to pay.

im a fourteen year old lesbian with ADHD, poor communication skills, and chronic depression. even if fourteen year olds could get a regular job, im nowhere near in the right mental state to get one. that’s why i need to ask you guys for help. i can do commissions in a timely manner and make money for my family. they’re lower priced than most commissions and id stretch the rules a bit for some extra cash. please consider helping me. like really. please. so many people expect someone else to commission me that no one does. dont just assume someone will donate or commission. please actually consider if you have the cash.

my commission info:



contact email:

(reblogs are deeply appreciated)

i mean i knew this would be the moment, the moment when sana isolates herself and pushes everyone away, she’s distancing herself like we saw her do when she unfriended yousef, but it still hit so fucking hard, because she’s trying to be so strong and present an image that she doesn’t need anyone, and it fucking hurts to watch someone purposely shut down

i think it’s possible sana has had to do this before, shut out any possible friends, she came to nissen without a friend group and we know now she was bullied in middle school, common advice to people being bullied is to just ignore the haters, to never respond and they will get bored and stop, i think sana would have taken that approach as its frame as a very logical one, but not allowing yourself to get upset, to not let yourself be emotional in favor of taking the logical approach can have its toll, it’s like everything turns into angry because when you’re mad you’ve got fire in your blood making you want to stand tall, to fight, makes you get through the day out of spite, but it’s so fucking tiring, i wouldn’t be surprised if sana lashes out more, i wouldn’t be surprised if she says something she doesn’t mean when confronted and she lets her angry win, sana’s hurting and right now she sees complete separating herself from the problem is her best (if not only) option

Maybe Teasing Wasn’t Such a Good Idea

She knew she wasn’t going to get away with this for very much longer as she casually bent forward in front of Harry, letting her shirt fall open, exposing her cleavage inches from his face.  Harry let out a slow breath, the warm air from his lungs, raising goose bumps along her skin. She’d been teasing him like this all day, subtle touches here and there, a few choice words whispered in his ear, and now it was starting to take its toll. His expression was dark as she sat across from him at the small secluded table in the restaurant.

Harry picked up his glass, the amber colored liquid swirling around, the slowly melting cubes of ice clinking against its edges. He took a slow, deliberate sip, keeping his eyes locked on her face. She could feel the flush creeping up her chest and onto her neck. She pressed her legs together under the cover of the table, thinking to herself that maybe teasing him all day hadn’t been the best decision.

“Angel…” Harry’s deep voice made her heart jump in her chest. “You know that this can go both ways, don’t you?” His eyes locked with hers. She could see the lust hidden behind them and feel the hunger in his veiled threat.

She cleared her throat and tried to sound braver than she actually felt. “Is that so?’

He smirked and she knew she’d said the wrong thing. She’d essentially just given him an invitation to tease her with everything he had in him.

Keep reading

From the Depths II closed


It was hard living alone in a dark, cruel world. She thought by running away from a place that she once called home would end her suffering. But it didn’t. It only seemed to make it worse. People weren’t as friendly as she hoped they’d be. Often they would shun her or treat her like she was a bother. 

What was the point of living? 

After things were beginning to be too much, she stood on the edge of the rail of the Golden Gate Bridge. She looked at the water below, the wind blowing her hair everywhere. This was her only way out. Her escape from everything. Just one step and she’d be free. 

When she hit the water, she was half expecting for death to come swiftly. But it didn’t. A huge tide dragged her further out into the sea. She mentally cursed fate for doing this to her. She tried to swim back to shore but it was useless. She belonged to the sea now. 

When sleep was starting to take its toll, she looked up at the sky. She didn’t notice a ship heading her direction as her eyes slowly closed. 

The actions of others exhausting her body-

the pleads of more aching her mind as it burned thoughts in her psychic spectrum. 

It was taking a toll. The typhoon that raged around her seemed to struggle to keep its gales and the pouring rains with it especially after the efforts of others to stop it in its tracts. The goddess struggled now with new aches and a weary mind that no longer held her senses captive-



   A Heavy Rain continues to fall!

         L U G I A has stopped rampaging! 

CS Fan Fic: Jones Family AU: Tired Mommy

A/N: Emma’s tired from taking care of newborn Liam. She’s been trying to do it all on her own and its taking its toll. Relief in the form of Prince Charming comes to rescue her.

A little Daddy Charming after watching all their moments as a team last night.



Emma slumped to the floor and pulled her knees to her chest next to her newborn son’s crib. He’s been sleeping for about 15 minutes which means he will surely be awake any time now. The little pirate prince seemed to like to cat nap and she was at her wits end. Killian was out working on patrol. She barely got any sleep the night before. He could see the weariness in her eyes and was reluctant to leave her alone. Liam would wake fully refreshed after about 20 minutes leaving her no time to take care of herself before he was up again. She couldn’t remember the last time she got a shower.  She felt the tears pooling in her tired eyes and lay her head on top of her knees hugging her legs tighter.

She thought about calling her mom but she didn’t want to relent that she couldn’t do this on her own. She never got to take care of Henry as a baby. She didn’t want to miss out on one minute of Liam’s life. His perfect blue eyes looking up and the cute little gurgling sounds he would make melted her heart.

She heard the door click and wiped her eyes pushing up from the floor just as her father entered the room.  She stopped in her tracks at the surprise.

“Emma, Are you ok?”asked David with concern in his eyes.

She walked over and hugged him tight sobbing into his shoulder. He put his arms around her cradling her head and smoothing his hand up and down her back. She didn’t hold back. She let it all out until she couldn’t cry anymore. He didn’t say a word to her. He just held her.

She pulled back slowly wiping her hand under her nose and wiping her tears away from her eyes.

“Thank you Dad.”

“Are you ok? Is something wrong with Liam?” he whispered crossing his arms in front of him.

“No, Dad. Liam is perfect. It’s just I’m tired and I smell. Liam sleeps just long enough for me to grab a drink and fill up for the next feeding. I need to do things around the house and I can’t do it all myself.” She said letting out an exasperated sigh.

“What about Hook? Isn’t he helping you?”asked David.

“Dad, he’s wonderful. He didn’t want to leave me. I lied, I told him I was fine, but I’m not. I just didn’t want him to think I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want you or Mom to think I couldn’t do it. I’m just so exhausted.” She said tears were pooling once again.

David brushed his hand over her back soothing her.

“Liam is asleep. Why don’t you let me look after him and you go take a shower?” he said smiling.

“You would do that?” asked Emma.

“Of course, I would love to spend time with my grandson. I’m sure I can handle it. Now go.” He said.

Emma smiled and kissed him lightly on the cheek. She quickly left the room to go take a shower. David walked over and looked down into the crib watching over his sleeping grandson.  It was as if he knew he was being watched and his little eyes popped open looking up to see him.

“Hello Liam, you want to sit with Grandpa for awhile?”asked David cooing at the wiggling little baby.

David scooped him up into his arms and walked over to sit in the rocker by the window in Liam’s room.

“Go easy on your Mommy Liam. She’s trying her best. You need to sleep just a little longer so she can get some rest too. “ said David sweetly.

Liam cooed and looked up at David wrapping his little finger around his own.

Emma came rushing into the room with her wet hair dangling and dripping as she toweled it dry.

“Is everything ok?”she asked.

“Emma, we are fine. Liam and I are having some Grandpa and Grandson bonding. Now go take care of yourself.” Said David sweetly talking to Liam.

Emma nodded and went back to her room. She felt relieved to have her father there. Liam was fine, he wasn’t screaming and David seemed happy to hold him and rock him.

She took her time drying her hair and styling it. She dressed in something that felt comfortable but didn’t make her feel like a homeless person. She even put on a little make up. She was starting to feel like herself again.

She walked back into Liam’s room to relieve her father to find him putting a sleeping baby down into his crib.

David put his finger to his lips to silence her.

She stopped short and backed out of the room. He followed shortly after.

“He’s asleep?”she asked.

David shut his door quietly.

“Yes, Grandpa has the baby touch according to your mom. When Neal was cranky I could always get him to sleep.” Said David smiling.

Emma hugged him.

“Thank you Dad. I really appreciate your help today. I actually feel like a person instead of just a milk machine.” Said Emma.

 “How about we go into the kitchen and you let me make you some lunch?”asked David.

Emma smiled.

David quickly whipped up a batch of grilled cheese sandwiches and some hot cocoa with whipped cream and cinnamon on top. Emma took a little nap on the couch while David made the lunch.

“Honey, come on let’s eat.” Said David.

“What, I’m awake, is the baby ok?”she said as she got up with a start.

“Liam’s fine, he’s still asleep. Lunch is ready.” said David smiling.

“Oh ok, I’m sorry I fell asleep.” said Emma.

She got up from the couch slowly and moved to the kitchen.

“Thank you Dad.” Said Emma.

“You never have to thank me for taking care of my little girl.” said David.

They sat eating and David told her about the latest stuff happening in the town while she’d been home taking care of Liam. She was happy to feel more like herself by the minute.

The sound of Liam crying brought her back to reality and out of the little daddy’s girl bubble that David built for her in the last 2 hours he’d been with her.  She got up and David put his hand on her shoulder pushing her back into her seat gently.

“Get comfortable and let me get him.” He said.

She nodded and stood to walk over to her comfy recliner. She relaxed when she heard Liam stop crying. She took a deep breath exhaling slowly.

“Here’s the little pirate prince all clean and ready for his Mommy.” Said David handing the swaddled baby over to Emma.

“Come here little man. Mommy missed you. Are you hungry?”she asked sweetly.

Liam looked up at her with his big blue eyes wide and a little smile on his face.

David leaned over and kissed her on top of her head and kissed Liam.

“I’ll leave you two alone.” Said David.

“Dad, Thank you.” Said Emma smiling.

“How about same time tomorrow? “ he asked.

“Really? That would be amazing.” Said Emma.

“Ok, bye Honey.” Said David shutting the door behind him.

 Later that day with Killian came home he found Emma sleeping on the couch, Liam sleeping in his crib and the sink empty.

He walked over and pulled a blanket from the side of the couch and covered his beautiful wife leaving her with a kiss on her head.  He was relieved to see she was getting some rest and planned to surprise her with dinner and a back rub when she woke up.

Fic Prompt: "Can you tuck me in?"

I’m just gonna leave this here for a little bit while I take a shower… God, I suck at keeping promises to myself. Talk about a fail of epic proportions… This may or may not be a fluke… All I ask is that you don’t ask me to write more. Okay? If there’s one thing I learned while on this self imposed hiatus, it’s that life is so much easier without pressure. So, please, be kind and give me time to do this stuff. That’s all I ask. Thank you for all the respect you’ve shown me while I was at my lowest. I hope this is a good enough token of my appreciation.

Suggested by professionalkitchendancer along with the idea for the story.


They were exhausted. More importantly, he was exhausted. This mission had taken its toll on Oliver and the rest of his team, but it was nothing compared to the price Felicity paid in the end. She’d ended up getting hurt. More to the point, she’d ended up getting slipped some kind of drug that was only now just beginning to makes its way out of her system.

For the past six hours, she’d writhed in pain, crying out in agony as Oliver and the others stood there and did all the could do: reassure her she would be okay once it was all over. They’d crowded into her tiny apartment, taking turns holding her hand as she screamed and cried and begged for something, anything that would ease her suffering. But there was nothing they could do. Not even the island herbs made an impact on her condition, no matter how much tea he had her drink.

Felicity was only now beginning to calm, the tension in her sweat-drenched body slowly easing as she lay in her bed, her clothing completely soaked through. He swiped a cool washcloth across her forehead as her eyes fluttered open and she gazed up at him.

“Hey,” Oliver whispered, his hand replacing the washcloth as his thumb stroked away wet strands of hair that stuck to her face. “How do you feel?”

“…’mkay,” Felicity murmured before closing her eyes again and taking a deep breath. “…’m thirsty.”

It was a good sign, her asking for water. Oliver grabbed the glass that had been sitting on her nightstand ever since they brought her home then eased his arm behind her neck to gently lift her up so she wouldn’t choke. Two small swallows was all she could manage before her hand fell against his wrist and pushed it back weakly. He set the glass down but continued to hold her upright.


She nodded slowly, her eyes remaining closed as her head lolled to the side against his shoulder. That was when Oliver finally put her down again. His hand brushed across Felicity’s red cheek to find it finally cool to the touch. “Get some rest,” he whispered then pressed a kiss to her forehead.

He had just pulled his arm free from behind her neck when Felicity opened her eyes again. “Can you tuck me in?” she softly asked. “I’m getting cold.”

Oliver simply smiled as he grabbed the other end of her blanket and wrapped it around her now shivering body. “Thank you,” she said, snuggling into its warmth as her eyes fell shut. He was just about to get up and leave the room when her voice called him back. “Oliver?” He turned. “Please stay.” Her hand wiggled out from beneath her blanket, reaching out for him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he reassured her before taking her hand. Felicity tugged him closer then scooted over a fraction as if it would give him enough room to slip beside her. Oliver couldn’t help but smile as he stepped over to the other side of the bed and slid in next to her, never once letting go of her hand. His arms wrapped around her tiny frame, pulling her to his chest as one hand splayed across her back while the other came up to cradle the back of her head. He didn’t care that she was soaking wet, he was just happy she was finally on the mend.

Oliver heard her sigh as she buried her face in the soft cotton of his t-shirt. With Felicity snuggled against his body, he relaxed for the first time since the previous day when they took on this mission. She was going to be okay. The worry slowly seeped out of him when he felt her breaths even out as she fell asleep. Minutes later, he found himself slipping under the pull of unconsciousness. With nothing left to anchor him to the waking world, he gave in with a sigh, happy that he wasn’t going to lose his partner and best friend.

lala-kate  asked:

Prompt: OQ “I’m having a fantastic time, sitting here and baking in the sun.”

Missing year. How it starts between them. Kinda long :)

The apple blossoms have finally popped from their tightly held buds, and Regina’s little orchard, her perfect haven among the stone and steel of the Summer Palace, is just as glorious as it was all those years ago when she was a young, lonely, frightened bride. Before, the first day of May was a celebration in the kingdom, a celebration in which she was never included. Her mother refused to let her dance around the maypole with the commoners’ children in the village when she was a child; as the queen, by right she should have been the one to be presented with bouquets of wildflowers and well wishes from her subjects. Instead, she spent every May Day in her private orchard, alone, while Snow collected flowers and passed out shiny gold coins.

That first day in May in Storybrooke, when she realized that it was just another day in the land without magic, was the happiest May Day she’d ever spent. Later, when Henry came into her life, she celebrated in her own way, helping to create a garden of construction paper and pipe cleaners on the first of the month. As he grew older, he never forgot – he brought her first a flower he’d made in school, and then a flower he’d picked out of the bushes surrounding Town Hall. That last May Day, the year he’d turned ten, he went to Game of Thorns and paid for a small bouquet of blossoms with his allowance.

Two days later, he found out he was adopted. Their relationship crumbled to dust, but that bouquet, carefully dried and pressed, did not.

She thinks of it now, wonders if it still exists. Wonders if Storybrooke still exists. Wonders if her apple tree at home (she thinks of Storybrooke as home, will always think of Storybrooke as home, no matter how long she’s trapped in the Summer Palace) has burst into blooms, wonders if anyone will pick the fruit or sit under the tree, listening to the sounds of summer under the shade of its emerald green leaves. More than anything, she wonders if any part of Henry remembers a mother with dark hair and dark eyes lifting him up off the ground, bracing him as he reaches stubby fingers to the shiniest apple on the branch and promising him that she’ll never let him fall.

Wondering gets her nowhere. Wanting gets her nowhere; she knows that now. The trees at the Summer Palace will bloom whether or not she’s there to bear witness, and thinking about the son that’s lost to her forever won’t change a thing. She rises from the stone wall, brushes imaginary dirt from the deep purple velvet of her gown, and begins to pace along the flagstones of the courtyard. How to stop the witch? How to protect the people who’ve been entrusted in her care?

How do I make sense of a sister I never knew I had?

One problem at a time. She tugs at the elaborate collar of her gown and wishes, not for the first time, that she could forgo the trappings of the Enchanted Forest in favor of a simple sleeveless black sheath. Velvet in the summertime. Were they always this ridiculous?

The doors to her rooms burst open, and her stepdaughter barrels into her private sanctuary. Snow is wearing a gauzy white gown, all chiffon and billowy layers. Clearly, it was only Regina that was this ridiculous. She shifts under her corset, attempts to square her shoulders under the weight of the jeweled collar and crosses her arms. “What?” she spits.

Her sharp tone is enough to stop Snow short, and even though she knows they’re meant to be on the same side, she can’t quite quash the thrill of seeing Snow thrown off balance. She has so few pleasures left in this world; why not enjoy this one?

“I thought,” Snow starts, then pauses. Regina cocks an eyebrow. “I thought you might like to come out to the grounds. The maypole is up, and the celebration will be starting soon.”

“I’m busy,” she says as she turns her back to her stepdaughter.

“Doing what? Sitting out here staring into space?”

This feisty Snow is a thorn in her side.”I should have killed you years ago,” she mutters, but the words don’t have any weight, not anymore. She couldn’t kill Snow then; she can’t shut her up now. All she can do is poof herself as far away as possible.

Keep reading